


If I Lose Myself I Lose it All

by livvywritesgay (livvywrites)



Series: Don't Know Where We're Going (But We Know Where We Belong) [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (not so much uni stuff tbh), Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, M/M, Virgin!Harry, depressed!harry, mostly it's about harry and how sad he is, sad!harry, uni!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvywrites/pseuds/livvywritesgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"not to spoil the ending, but everything is going to be okay".</p><p> </p><p>  <i>So later, when his Mum carefully knocked on the door telling him he should get up now or he would be late for school, he told her he had a headache and he wanted to stay home from school. It was not as if he was lying. Harry has had a headache for weeks now and it bothers him at night so he cannot sleep properly. Mostly though, he chose not to go to school that morning because he did not feel like it. He still does not feel like it, even when he wakes up at noon and sees the texts from his friends. He ignores the texts and plugs in his earphones, turning up Arctic Monkeys loud and closes his eyes again. He lies under the covers, looking up at the ceiling. His mind is empty. He feels empty. He wishes there was someone who could make him feel whole again – someone who could patch him together and love him for who he is.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I myself am depressed and have anxiety. this is loosely based on real life events. except i know the end of this story. i don’t know the end of my story.
> 
> depression and anxiety are different from everyone. i am just writing this from my own experiences with both of these diseases and applying my symptoms and thoughts on harry’s character.
> 
> please be aware that this story contains both depression and anxiety. i don't think it's graphic, but still, be careful whilst reading this. 
> 
> a huge thank you to [anna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sweatshirt/) for editing and helping me with the story! i love you for it and thanks for not completely hate my story and destroying me with negative criticism! xx
> 
> title is from naughty boy's _runnin' (lose it all)_

He dances around people, plasters on a smile and hopes for the best and hopes no one will notice. At the same time he hopes everyone will. He feels like no one can save him. The night is silent apart from one or two shuddering breaths, followed by tears. That is all there is nowadays – tears and silence. No one notices, no one cares, no one understands.

 

Sadness consumes him. He cannot understand how no one sees how broken he is. He has always been told that he’s a terrible actor, but apparently he is good enough to make people think he is fine. He is not fine, not even close to fine. And he cannot talk to anyone about his feelings-- he does not want to be a burden, he does not want anyone to think he is annoying. He is always putting others’ needs in front of his own. This is what he knows. It is not like he is alone-- he does have friends, but it seems like he is at the bottom of their priority lists. They’re rather selfish. Maybe he feels that way because he needs them but they do not need him back. Or maybe they cannot wrap their heads around the fact that he is not feeling well. But friends should know that, should they not? They should be able to see how his smiles do not reach his eyes, how they barely dimple his cheeks anymore. They should be able to tell when he is uncomfortable or when he is holding back tears. Maybe they do not want to see.

 

Sometimes, he tries to talk to his friends, tries to tell them how unwell he is-- how he feels like his skin is too tight and he just wants to scratch it off. He wants to tell them how he cannot turn off the voices in his head telling him he’s worthless and evil. His friends never listen though, always twisting his words around so it seems like he is attacking and criticising them. He would never do that though. He cares about them too much to lose them. He just feels lonely even when he’s surrounded by close friends. It’s like he is wearing a mask. Always a forced smile on his lips. No one sees. No one understands.

 

He knows he wears heart on his sleeve and that he cries a lot. Perhaps he is too emotional for his own good, but he cannot help it. He tries to make everyone happy, no matter whether it hurts himself. And it does hurt him -- everything he does hurts him, but he can’t stop.He ends up crying himself to sleep most nights, sobs muffled by his pillow or arm. He is not sure if the crying helps. It takes the edge off, sure, but only for a little while. When he sheds those tears, the heavy feeling inside his chest disappears for a little while, but mostly, crying just makes him feel weak. Boys should not cry. Not if they have not hurt themselves-- scraped a knee, or broken a wrist and perhaps not even then. Boys are not meant to be weak.

 

But he is. He is a mess and no one sees it. Sometimes he wants someone to notice that everything is wrong. He wishes someone would dig deep and see through his façade and care. He hears people say he is easy to read. They must be liars. He thinks his mother can see through him; see past his fake smiles and unnatural laughter. But she knows better than to push him if he tells her he is all right. Sometimes she looks at him with so much pity in her eyes, he has to walk away and hide his tears because he cannot bear the thought of making his own mother upset. She means the world to him.

 

The hardest question to answer is why he is so sad. Not that anyone has ever asked him, but sometimes he lies in bed and wonders for himself. He has never been assaulted or bullied or hit, never been treated like everything would be better if he were not there anymore. On the other hand, however, he has never felt wanted either. He has never been kissed, never been touched, never even held hands with anyone. And that makes him feel like complete, utter shit. Like it would be better to just disappear. His Mum might miss him, and his step-dad, and sister, and real dad. But they would probably be the only ones. He’s considered suicide countless times, but never gone through. He’s too cowardly, too weak.

 

He is also a closeted romantic. He is a sucker for romantic films and loves their happy endings. He likes to pretend things he sees in films or reads about in books will happen to him some day. Some day, he would like to know what it is like to be kissed; what it is like to be loved and to be in love. He would like to know how it feels to be wanted by someone, and to be so in love he might burst with happiness. Sometimes, when he thinks about the future, he can see himself living in a big house with someone who loves him, surrounded by children and cats and dogs. But then he remembers who he is, what he’s like, and he cries instead.

 

His friends just have it so much better than him. They have jobs, drivers’ licences, boyfriends, girlfriends. They have had sex and they have had their first kisses, second kisses, third kisses. They have the energy to do other things besides lying in bed all day, occasionally listening to music or doing homework. They go to parties every other weekend, but only sometimes they ask him to join them. Everyone is too busy with their loved ones. He does not blame them. He understands. He would love to be busy with a boy. Instead he is home, helping his mother with dinner and the dishes, or watching telly with his stepfather. Sure, he sometimes hangs out with a friend or two, when they want a break from their partners. He feels uncomfortable then, knowing they probably want to be somewhere else. Doing whatever couples do. He does not blame them. He never blames them. But sometimes he wishes for things to be different.

 

He used to find enjoyment in several things, things no one would ever associate with him now. He used to love writing. He wrote all kinds of things – poems and short stories and song lyrics. Even his older sister used to beg him to tell her stories when they were younger. _You tell the best stories Harry_ , she used to say.

 

He does not write anymore. It is like even his creativity has given up on him. Instead, he watches people from his window or on the occasional trips he takes to town. He likes to make up stories about people and decide their destiny for them. Happy destinies. He likes to believe that if he believes in his stories hard enough, they will come true. The whole family used to spend most nights playing board game. _Scrabble_ was a family favourite and Harry loved sitting with his parents spelling out words. He has skipped out on a lot of those nights. He cannot even find enjoyment in masturbating. He is not going to lie, masturbating used to be a big part of his life – he is a teenage boy after all. But lately, barely anything has been able to turn him on. And if something has and he has managed to stay turned on long enough for an orgasm, he has immediately broken down in tears after, remembering that he has not had the real thing, nor will he ever, probably. He cannot believe that he has gone nearly 19 years in life without sex. Who even wants a 19-year-old virgin?

 

 “Don’t you want to ring Niall and ask him to come over honey? There’s more than enough food for him as well,” Mum asks him one day when he is doing his homework in the kitchen. She is standing by the stove, making pasta. He does not even look up from his homework, shaking his head and turns the page in his textbook. He has not really bothered reading the text, but he turns the page anyway, for appearance sake. Do not make Mum disappointed.

 “It’s just been a while since he was over, hasn’t it Harry?” Harry clears his throat and furrows his eyebrows. He does not want Niall to come over. He is probably hanging out with his girlfriend anyway. Why would he choose Harry when he has a beautiful girlfriend?

 “I don’t want to,” he mumbles.

 “Alright. What about Liam then?” He has a girlfriend too. They both have beautiful and funny girlfriends, who seems way better Harry. Harry cannot blame them. Harry is not beautiful, nor particularly funny. He is not a girl either, and does not kiss them and definitely does not have sex with them. Kissing and fucking seem like better things to do than hang out with Harry. Not that Harry cares. If they do not want to hang out with him, who is he to stop them? If Harry was to believe all the hype with kissing and fucking, he would probably rather do that too. It seems lovely. He glances up at his mother. She is watching him intently with that stupid pity in her eyes. Harry does not like that look. He wishes she would stop pitying him. He wishes she would try to help him instead. But no one understands. He collects all his books and papers and pens in his arms and uses his legs to push his chair out.

 “I said I don’t want to.” He leaves his mother alone in the kitchen and walks up to his room and does not come down when his stepfather calls him down for dinner.

 

Harry spends the weekend in his room. The only times he leaves his room is to go to the bathroom. He barely speaks, barely eats. When he is not in his bed, he sits on the windowsill and looks down at the street below him. He watches the people walking up and down the pavement. The old lady with the old poodle down the street walks past his house every ten minutes for a half hour. He wonders if she is lost. He should probably tell his Mum, but he stays on the windowsill. There are children playing on the pavement, children he has never seen before. He spends a few minutes making up stories about them. They are not very good, he has lost his touch. Another thing he is not very good at anymore. One day, he thinks, he will probably not be able to do anything other than stare. Stare and sleep. He looks up at the sky. It is bright blue and the sun is shining. Harry wishes for it to be a mirror of his own feelings. He wants to feel bright blue and he wants to feel the sun shining from inside of him. He wants to smile again and he wants to laugh. Instead, if the sky were Harry’s mirror, it would be dark grey with high risks of rain and wind. He does not even feel sad today. He does not feel anything. He is empty inside. Like all the tears finally dried him out, his emotions following as the tears spilled out of his eyes. Whatever. He does not need his emotions anymore. They just made him miserable.

 

When Harry goes to bed on Sunday evening, he dreams about a boy who makes him laugh and smile. He dreams about a boy who laughs at Harry’s bad jokes and who holds his hand and who talks non-stop. He dreams about kisses and touches and breaths mixed together. Everything is so real; Harry wakes up with tears in his eyes. He tries to wipe them away before they fall, but it is like the dream set off the sprinkler system and suddenly Harry cannot stop crying. Silent tears turn to small whimpers. Small whimpers turn to full on sobs and Harry cannot stop crying. He feels weak, he feels terrible. All he wants is to stop crying. He does not until he is in his mother’s embrace. She hums softly in his ear, the same song she used to sing when she put Harry and his sister to bed when they were children. She lets Harry stay home from school and does not go to work. They spend the day together, eating ice cream and watching old Disney films. She does not ask why he was crying and Harry does not tell her, but that is okay. Harry is okay now, sitting leaning into his mother’s side with her hand in his hair on the sofa watching when Mulan saves China from the Huns. Being with his family makes Harry feel better. Not good. But better. Ice cream helps too. He knows his mother wants to ask him questions. He knows she cares about him very much. But he cannot answer any questions because he does not have any answers. Also, he feels dumb feeling this way when he does not have a real reason to. He is just behind on love. That is no reason to feel this way. He is ashamed of himself for both feeling the way he feels and being so behind on love and sex. He is 18 years old. Should he not have had his first kiss by now? Should he not have held hands with someone by now?

 

It is hard going to bed on Monday. Harry tries to fall asleep for hours before he gives up and walks over to his father’s old record player and puts the needle down. Turning down the volume so his mother and stepfather will not wake up, he sits down on the floor in front of his mirror. He watches himself intently. The way his long skinny fingers fiddle in his lap, the way he bites his lower lip. He has permanent black shadows under his eyes, his stupid hair is too long and unruly and his cheekbones jut out. He is stupidly skinny and tall. He kind of looks like a match, it is so easy to break him if one bends him too much. He loves too easily, trusts too easily. Bend him too much and he will snap. Bend and snap.

 

He is sitting on his bed, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. It has been quiet for a while, and when Harry looks up from his lap, he sees his friends sitting glued to their phones. Of bloody course. Harry must be the most boring friend in the world, if not even his “best” friends can let their phone be for the few hours they are spending time with each other. He feels kind of worthless. He clears his throat, furrowing his eyebrows as he desperately tries to come up with something to say.

 “So what did you do last night?” His question is met by silence. Neither Niall nor Liam look up from their mobiles, just continue typing away, occasionally making faces for Snapchat.

He tries again. “Can you please let your phones be?” The words come out mumbled. Whatever. He could scream and they would probably keep ignoring him.

 “What?”

Niall finally looks up from his phone and stare at Harry with confusion written all over his face. Harry wonders what would happen if he died right then and there. Would any of his friends care? They certainly do not care when he speaks to them.

 “I don’t understand why you bothered coming here if you’re gonna sit by your phones all night.” Harry blushes as he speaks, looking down at his fingers in his lap again. He has never been good at confrontation; always too afraid people would leave him if he were not pleasing them. Niall shrugs and places his phone on the floor next to him, nudging Liam next to him to do the same thing.

 “Sorry H,” Liam says. “Soph’s alone and bored tonight.”

Harry wants to ask him why she can’t find another way to entertain herself. Harry does not say this. That would probably hurt Liam’s feelings.

 “We can watch a film,” Niall suggests. So they do. And two of them are glued to their phones once again and Harry forgets the film. He keeps watching his friends ignoring him on the first night they all spend time together for God knows how long and he wishes they would be somewhere else. Not being with them is better than being with them and be ignored. His mother always says you should tell your friends when you are upset with them. But Harry does not dare. He is afraid he will push them away and be lonely for the rest of his life. At least they care enough to come over for once. Even if them coming over means not spending time with them. Harry kind of wishes he lived in a time without phones or advanced technology. Maybe he would be happier then.

**Liam (9.02)**

_you ill? u seemed fine saturday_

**Niall (10.45)**

_Li said u werent at eng this morning. does that mean ur not comin to maths??? dont make me suffer aloneeeeee h!!!_

 

It is easy to forget how selfish his friends really are when Harry wakes up to their texts on Monday morning. The two of them sound concerned he is not in school, but when Harry woke up the first time, his insides screamed at him to stay in bed. So later, when his Mum carefully knocked on the door telling him he should get up now or he would be late for school, he told her he had a headache and he wanted to stay home from school. It was not as if he was lying. Harry has had a headache for weeks now and it bothers him at night so he cannot sleep properly. Mostly though, he chose not to go to school that morning because he did not feel like it. He still does not feel like it, even when he wakes up at noon and sees the texts from his friends. He ignores the texts and plugs in his earphones, turning up Arctic Monkeys loud and closes his eyes again. He lies under the covers, looking up at the ceiling. His mind is empty. He feels empty. He wishes there was someone who could make him feel whole again – someone who could patch him together and love him for who he is.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry is still depressed and suffers from anxiety. this is when and where they meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, thank you a billion to all of you who have bookmarked, left kudos and commented! as i've said before, i was really anxious putting this out since it's basically based on myself. but seeing all the love you have given me, i can't wait to post more!
> 
> second of all, there is a panic attack in this chapter. however, the attack is described from louis' pov so it's not graphic by any means, but i just wanted to mention it! if it's triggering to anyone at all, please be careful reading that passage. it's only for a few sentences, but it's still there.
> 
> third of all, another thank you to [anna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sweatshirt/) for editing!
> 
> fourth of all, i had already finished writing these first two chapters before i posted chapter 1, so the third chapter (might have to make a fourth chapter, but we'll get to that later) might be later than this. i have a few days left in my accommodation here in england before i go to london for a few days and then back home with my family, so i don't think i'll be able to write much this week. however, i have begun it and am about a third into it i'd say. so hopefully it won't be long until i post chapter 3!
> 
> now enjoy.

The first time Louis meets his new roommate, it is the middle of the night. He is on his way back from the toilets, rubbing his eyes and he drags his feet against the floor. As he turns down the corridor, he collides with a warm body.

 “I’m so sorry!” he hears before even registering what happened. He looks up and locks eyes with a boy he has never seen before. The boy has tears in his eyes and looks smaller than he is, with his shoulders hunched and face looking down. He is standing with his toes pointed inwards and fidgeting with his hand, showing typical signs of nervousness. Louis should know all about them since he has just begun the last year of his psychology major. Before Louis has the chance to even open his mouth and reassure the boy that he does not have to apologise, the boy is shuffling down the corridor. He shuts the bathroom door quietly behind him.

The next morning, Louis meets his new roommate again. He has just finished showering in the shared bathroom, where there is a sign right outside the showers saying, “any forms of sexual activities are forbidden as they clog the drain”. Louis thinks the sign is stupid. As if anyone would even think about wanking or fucking in a disgusting joint shower. Besides, the sign only makes him want to do it. He wraps the towel around his waist and picks up the shampoo and soap from the floor, opening the shower door to head back to his room. As he pushes the door open, he bumps right into something. Or rather, someone. A basically naked someone. He looks up to meet the same eyes as last night, wide and  _ green green green _ . The boy’s cheeks turn bright red.

 

 “A bit forward of you, innit?” Louis teases, which only makes the boy in front of him blush harder.

 “I- I’m- I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking, I didn’t see you, I swear. I’m-”

 “Hey,” Louis interrupts. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t looking either.” The boy in front of him takes a deep breath and smiles unsurely, looking down at the floor again. 

 “Are you the one who moved into Annie’s old room?” Louis asks before the boy can move away from him.

 “Um, yeah I guess so.” He is so shy, poor thing. Louis kind of just want to cuddle up to him and stay there forever.

 “Welcome then. I’m Louis, I’m in the room by the kitchen. Did you come last night?” He would stretch his hand out, but he notices the boy’s hands are holding onto his towel and Louis would not want him to feel even more comfortable than he already probably does.

 “M’Harry,” he says and clears his throat. “I had to switch accommodation because it didn’t work out.” Louis smiles.

 “That’s great. We’ll be new best friends then.” After a short moment in silence, he adds, “I’ll let you go shower then. But whatever you do, don’t break the rules!” He nods toward the stupid sign on the wall and chuckles, leaving the bathroom and Harry there in it.

 

In the past, Louis did not care too much about what other people thought of him-- whether they thought he is too loud or that he talks too much or he just  _ is _ too much. However, since Harry moved into their dorm, Louis has started to care a little more about what people think. Or, more accurately, what Harry thinks. Louis is oddly enamoured by Harry. He thinks Harry is so beautiful, perhaps a tragic kind of beautiful. They have started talking more and more after the naked incident, but Harry still talks in a quiet voice and hardly looks him in the eyes. And when he does, Louis sees so much sadness in them, his heart aches a little. Whenever he asks Harry about it though, Harry just smiles that small smile of his and shrugs. “I’m alright,” he says. Louis never believes him, but he does not push.

 

It turns out Louis and Harry share the same love for TV shows and films. When their other roommates suggest they go out, Louis opts for staying in with Harry. Apparently, Harry does not like going out much, preferring to stay in and cosy up with blankets and candles in front of the laptop. And Louis can not stand leaving Harry behind. Louis still does go out, and he loves it, loves drinking and dancing and being in the centre of attention. It is just that Harry hardly ever wants to come; seemingly only saying yes because he knows Louis wants to go. And Louis has seen Harry when they have gone out, he has seen Harry sitting awkwardly next to him, almost completely sober, without talking to anyone. He has seen Harry drinking way too much because Louis figures even though Harry does not like to go out very much, he tries so hard fitting in and it ends up with Louis holding Harry’s hair and stroking his back when he throws up in the bathroom when they come home.

 

They are best friends. Really, truly best friends. If Louis thought he had a best friend in Stanley when growing up back home, it is nothing in comparison to what he and Harry have got. Louis finds that Harry is the one person he wants to tell everything to, the one who he wants to share all his secrets with.

 “Harry,” he whispers during  _ Almost Famous  _ one night. He knows Harry hates it when someone does not pay attention to the film playing, but he cannot help himself. They are lying next to each other in Louis’ bed, laptop between them. Harry tilts his head up where he has it propped up on his hand.

 “Yeah?”

 “I’m really happy you’re my friend.” And, honest to God, Louis believes he has never seen Harry smile that big, ever. Harry smiles, of course he does, but he never looks this happy. Louis kind of wants to make Harry smile like this all the time because he is so in love with the look on Harry’s face. Those dimples make Louis a little weak in the knees and that makes him thankful he is lying down. Harry turns back to the film, pretty smile still on his lips. When they lay this close to each other, it is hard not to notice how beautiful Harry is. Louis ignores the film in favour for watching Harry instead. He has seen it before, he knows how it ends. Louis takes advantage of Harry watching Kate Hudson and Patrick Fugit interact on the screen, and lets his eyes roam freely over Harry’s face. He admires his big, innocent eyes and straight nose. He likes the way that Harry has the bone structure of a Greek God, but still manages to look so, so innocent. Louis thinks Harry is the greatest boy he has ever had the chance to meet. He’s sweet and kind and secretly funny, with the greatest laugh of all time. He’s adorably shy and caring and loveable. Louis is so in love with him. He cannot tell if Harry feels the same, however, because although Louis can read Harry like a book, he is also a big mystery to him. Harry has walls put up around him, walls that even Louis has not managed to break down yet. He wants to, though. He wants Harry to feel as secure in their friendship as Louis does and share everything with him. So even if Louis is more in love with Harry than he ever has been before, he thinks it is better not to throw that out there, not until Louis knows Harry likes him more than as a friend for certain.

 

They are out Christmas shopping together when Harry gets a panic attack. Nothing in particular has happened, but Louis knows how Harry can get sometime, especially when there are a lot of people around and he is stressed. They are standing in the middle of Lush and Harry is holding a basket filled with bath bombs for his sister and mother when Louis notices him start hyperventilating. He has been around for some of Harry’s panic attacks before, but not many, and he is still a bit unsure what to do. As the tears start to fall down Harry’s cheeks, Louis grabs the basket from him and puts it down on the floor, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist and steers him out of the shop. He knows how embarrassing Harry finds his panic attacks, especially if they happen in public. He takes him to a small alley just beside the shop and wraps his arms around Harry’s upper body, hugging him as tightly as he can. He can feel Harry’s sobs wreck through both Harry’s and his own bodies, but he does not care. He does not make a big deal out of it either, just keep hugging him close with one arm, using his other hand to run through Harry’s hair. Harry is hunched forward with his face pressed against the side of Louis’ neck and this position makes it easy for Louis to whisper sweet nothings in Harry’s ear to try to calm him down. It takes a while, but Louis does not mind. He used to be an impatient person, but he finds himself more and more patient the more time he spends with Harry, because Harry is quiet for a long period of time sometimes, he stops talking in the middle of a sentence when he thinks what he is saying sounds too stupid. So they stand there, in an alley tucked away from the rest of the busy streets of London, and hold onto each other. Or, in Harry’s case, clinging off Louis. Louis does not mind. He never minds Harry. All he want is for Harry to stop being so scared and open up to him, to understand how much Louis loves him.

 

Harry has never told Louis what is wrong with him. And yeah, phrasing it like that sounds horrible, but Louis knows something  _ is _ wrong. He can tell Harry has things that trouble him, that something is wrong with him because he does not believe that someone in their right mind could hate Harry as much as he does himself. Louis knows his is one of Harry’s only friends. He knows this and it hurts his soul because Harry is the best person he knows. Louis never wants to push Harry into telling, but he wants to know so badly. He sometimes get irritated with Harry because he is there, he is right there and Harry knows he can tell Louis anything and he just does not. He never tells Louis anything. And that annoys Louis to no end, even though he would never admit it to Harry. He also cannot help but feel annoyed with Harry himself sometimes. Yes, Louis loves Harry and loves spending time with him, he does, but sometimes Louis wants to spend time with other friends, without Harry. He can tell how disappointed and sad Harry gets when he tells him he cannot hang out with him, even though Harry tries to put on a smile and tells him it does not matter,  _ don’t worry _ , he says, _ I’ll see you tomorrow _ . He knows it is probably a bad thing of him to let Harry be alone, especially when he comes home late at night and sees he has unanswered texts and sometimes even phone calls from Harry. He usually feels guilty when that happens, but it is dark in Harry’s room when he gets home, so he does not have the chance to go apologise.

 

There is this boy, right, who is really bad at trying to hide his feelings toward Louis. He is nice, he is good looking and Louis really enjoys his company. Just not in the same way as he does. He is very persistent though, always finding Louis at parties and starting conversation. He has never asked Louis out per say, or even tried to initiate anything, but it is no secret that this guy wants Louis. However, Louis has feelings for Harry. Extremely strong feelings. He knows Harry does not think of him like that, so he knows that he is free to do whatever he wants. Which is why he finds himself at a party (without Harry), drink in hand, talking to John. John is funny, he makes Louis laugh and he captures Louis in the way he talks. He actually makes him forget about Harry for the time being. They stand there for a while, until their fifth bottle of beer is finished and six shot glasses are surrounding them. The night ends with John’s lips around Louis’ dick.

 

*****

 

Louis has met someone. Harry feels like he is back in Holmes Chapel again, with Louis spending less and less time with him and sitting with his mobile when they actually do hang out. Harry tries not to let it affect him too much, he does, but he  _ is _ affected by it. He has felt better for a while, and Louis has been a huge part of it. They really have become good friends and Harry has been so glad for the fact, has appreciated every moment they have spent together. He knows he has made it hard for Louis, he knows he is a lot to handle. But now he feels like shit again and he cannot tell Louis because he is the one causing it and even though that is the case, he cannot afford to lose his best friend. So Harry swallows his feelings and ignores the fact that Louis spends more time on his mobile than he does talking to Harry. He texts Louis one night, knowing he could just go down the hall and knock on the door. But the last time he forwent texting first and went to Louis’ room, he heard unmistakable noises of sex and he went back to his room with crimson cheeks and tears in his eyes. He sends the text and waits for a minute or two. Before Louis met this boy, he would usually text back after five minutes at the most, either with a reply or an explanation that he could not text right now. And Harry is fine with both of those replies; he is a firm believer that if you are busy hanging out with someone, you should not sit and text someone else. Harry checks his phone again after half an hour. There is still no reply. He clears his throat and bites the inside of his cheek, throwing the phone further away from him and goes back to his laptop. He is supposed to write a take-home exam, but he cannot focus. All he can think of is how Louis ignores him in favour of fucking someone and he cannot believe he is back where he started again.

 

Harry has started to cry himself to sleep again. It is not every night, but it is enough to leave him with puffy eyes and dark circles under his eyes. The texts between him and Louis are fewer than ever and Harry is more alone than not. He tries to text Louis again on a particular bad Sunday. He woke up feeling like shit, anxiety worryingly high and it has not become better since.

**Harry (11.34)**

_ hey, what’s up? _

**Louis (12.00)**

_ hi love! just packing, trying to get some tickets back home :) _

**Harry (12.03)**

_ back home? _

**Louis (12.20)**

_ yeah, me and john went to manchester yesterday. _

**Harry (12.25)**

_ okay. let me know when you’re on your way home then. _

**Louis (12.40)**

_ of course h! miss you pal :) _

 

Harry does not stop his tears from falling after that. He lets his mobile drop from his hand down on the covers of his bed and lets himself just cry. He cannot believe Louis. Sure, he does not need to tell Harry everything, he has no obligations to do so. They are not in a relationship – Louis can do whatever he wants. But he wishes Louis would tell him  _ some _ things. He knows Louis likes this John guy and he is so happy for his friend. But they have only spent time together for a couple of weeks. He just feels a bit cheated on. He feels like he is starting to lose his best friend, one of his only friends.

 

He is watching an episode of  _ The Affair _ when his phone vibrates.

**Louis (20.05)**

_ omg this is the worst train ride ever. we only managed to find a train that forces us to get off in warrington to switch trains. :((( _

**Harry (20.10)**

_ so you got on a train after all. _

**Harry (20.11)**

_ good to know. _

**Louis (20.22)**

_ you alright h? you don’t sound too happy. _

Harry thinks it’s now or never. He could send Louis a text pretending everything is fine. He doesn’t. Instead he types out what he has wanted to say ever since the day Louis started ignoring him.

**Harry (20.38)**

_ I’m not happy. I woke up feeling like shit and thought we could hang out to make me feel better but you apparently went to Manchester without telling me and I don’t know how to react. I got my hopes up and now I’m even more disappointed because you didn’t tell me you left town. _

**Harry (20.40)**

_ I hate how I’m left behind. I hate how it’s either him or your course mates. Please don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you. It’s great that you have other friends and that you have met someone you like and who likes you back. It’s just hard for me because I’m used to having you here with me all the time. _

**Louis (20.55)**

_ I’m sorry for making you feel that way, it’s not my intention. It’s hard to balance everything. I feel bad for leaving you behind, I do, but you need to understand that I can’t be with you all the time. I’ve got other friends too, Harry. _

**Louis (21.05)**

_ I can’t even get into your head. You won’t let me all the way in. How do you think it feels for me to give and give and never get anything back? I’m sorry you feel like shit. But don’t you think you should go out and find some other friends? Because I can’t be with you all the time. I’ve got a life of my own. _

**Louis (21.10)**

_ What is it that makes you take everything so personally? Low self-esteem? _

 

Harry loses it again, starts crying so hard his whole body shakes with it. He does not bother with answering Louis’ text. Louis  _ knows  _ he does not feel good about himself, he  _ knows  _ Harry’s self-esteem is in the bottom. This is the worst Louis has ever made him feel. He cannot believe Louis out of all people would use his insecurities against him and twist his words around like that. Harry does not know when he falls asleep, but he wakes up the next morning with his head on a wet pillow. He turns off his alarm and falls back asleep.

 

Harry falls into a routine. He wakes up, skips breakfast, goes to class and comes home, does his course work and goes to bed. He barely eats, barely sleeps, managing three hours at the most. The dark circles under his eyes are back, for good it seems, and he feels like a zombie. He has lost his purpose in life, he has lost the love of his life and for what, for being stupidly clingy and for caring too much and for being too insecure? It takes him a while, but he finally comes to his senses and realises the feelings he has for Louis are way stronger than platonic love. He still talks to Louis sometimes, but it is not every day. Sometimes it is not even every other day. Harry tries texting him, catches himself typing out something weird he saw or thought about that he knows Louis will laugh about. But he always deletes the text before he can send it, knowing Louis is probably busy with other things. He knows that from experience.

 

It is a Wednesday afternoon when he decides to send off a text to Niall. They have not seen each other in ages, not since last summer when they both were back home for summer hols. Niall’s reply comes almost immediately and the conversation flows freely, just like they did when they were younger and before Harry started feeling like shit. It is a nice feeling, talking to Niall. He always loved Niall, never blamed him for what happened, because it was not his fault. They make plans for meeting that Friday night, when classes are over for Christmas and they are free to do whatever they want. Harry has honestly not been this excited for anything for such a long time. He feels more alive than he has for the last couple of weeks.

 

As it so happens, Niall also goes to university in London. So they meet up at a pub in Camden. It is probably not the best environment for Harry, especially not at the moment, but Harry is working on this whole not-letting-his-anxiety-getting-in-the-way thing. He puts an effort in his outfit, more so than usual, and sets off to the tube. It is not that he minds the tube, it is just that he absolutely does. He has lived in London for almost two years now, but the tube still stresses him out to no end. It is underground and so busy all the time and Harry always worries he is going to take the wrong train. On the way to the underground station, he studies the map in detail even though he has taken this train a million times. He has never taken it by himself though, always been with Louis. Always lost without Louis.

 

Niall is not there when he steps into the pub. Harry looks around the dimly lit room and finds an unoccupied table in the middle of the room. He goes straight there, does not care for a drink, not yet. Harry has never been for drinking alone. He finds himself getting nervous as he shrugs out of his coat and sits down. Not nervous for meeting Niall, but anxious for sitting alone somewhere outside of his comfort zone. Niall shows up fifteen minutes after they said they would, late as usual, and Harry has worked himself up to half a frenzy. Five more minutes and Harry would have broken down and humiliated himself with an anxiety attack.

 “Harry!” Niall calls and raises his whole arm up in a wave. It makes Harry smile, just a little, but a smile nonetheless. He stands up when Niall comes up to the table. Niall instantly goes in for a hug and Harry stiffens up for a second before relaxing and wrapping his arms around Niall, squeezing him tightly.

 “Y’alright mate? It’s been ages!” Niall says (almost shouts, he seems very excited) as they sit down. He opens the menu and browses through the drinks. Harry finds himself smiling wider, purely unconsciously.

 “I’m good,” he answered, shifting on his seat to get closer to Niall. Since Harry arrived, the pub has become busier and although Niall is a bit of a shouter, Harry thinks it is more polite to not be forced to ask Niall to repeat himself all the time. Niall waves down one of the waiters and orders himself a beer and some fish and chips. Harry realises he has not even looked at the menu and opens it quickly, scanning the pages with a blush on his cheeks. Typical him to be of inconvenience.

 “M’sorry,” he mumbles with a quick glance to the waiter. “I’ll have the same as him.” He closes the menu and decidedly not looking at the waiter. He is way too ashamed for that.

 

They end up sitting there for several hours, talking and Niall even manages to make Harry laugh a few times. It is liberating sitting with Niall instead of being by himself, alone in his room. Harry finds himself opening up, he asks Niall about university, about his family, if he sees Liam and could he say hi from Harry next time he sees him? When Harry looks at his mobile, he sees that the two of them have been sitting at the pub for over three hours and Harry has not felt anxious once, not since before Niall showed up.

 “Some of my friends are at a club not far from here, d’you wanna go? They’re dead fun, I swear!” And just like that, Harry feels the anxiety in the pit of his belly, the worry in his throat. He shrugs and takes another drink, eyes on the glass as he sets it back down on the wet table.

 “We don’t have to go, I was just wondering if you’d be up to it. It’s been a while since we partied together!” Niall sounds very enthusiastic about it all and Harry does not even have it in his heart to say that they have never partied together, that at the single-numbered times Niall and Liam invited Harry to one of their friends’ parties, Harry ended up completely sober and leaving after half an hour at most. It is not like Harry resents the idea of a party or alcohol, he is just afraid that it will turn out the same way that it has done most times he went partying, especially at the parties without Louis. However, Niall looks so hopeful that Harry nods his head yes after a while.

 “Yeah, sure. We can stop by.”

 

The club is packed with people. Harry is not surprised, it is a Friday night after all. There are people everywhere he looks, people with drinks in their hands or grinding against each other. He had not even thought about staying long, let alone drinking, but Niall had left him with his friends while he danced over to the bar and came back with a beer and a shot each. He learns the names of Niall’s friends – there’s Loren with the bright yellow hair, Ed with the calm attitude and Sammy, who Harry notices cannot stop laughing even though he has only known her for twenty minutes. Surprisingly, they all make Harry feel less anxious about being there. They actually make the effort to speak to him, despite Harry’s disability to small talk. They make him feel included; make him feel warm inside and slightly more good about himself.

 “So Harry,” Loren says. She has had a few drinks, Harry notices, from the way she leans against him and speaks loudly in his ear. He turns his head to look at her, scrunches up his nose a little from the smell of vodka on her breath. He hopes she does not notice. Loren does not wait for him to answer, leaning even further into him and smacks her gum.

 “What are you doing sitting here with us loonies when at least five girls have given you heart eyes since you and Niall walked in here?” Harry blushes at her words, breaking their eye contact.

 “Not really interested,” he mumbles. Loren quirks an eyebrow.

 “Oh,” she says, not even acting surprised. “That’s what I thought.” She takes another of the shots standing at their table. “Now that you mention it, there’s a bloke over there checking you out as well.” Harry looks over when Loren nods at someone over his shoulder and he cannot help the way his breath hitches. Louis is sitting a few tables away, so close to his beloved boyfriend Harry cannot tell their jean-clad legs apart. He looks away quickly, right when their eyes meet and jumps when he notices that Loren has not moved an inch, still close enough that he smells her alcohol-infused breath. She must see something in his eyes because she only smiles and puts an arm around him, clapping him on the shoulder twice and pushes a shot his way.

 

Harry wakes up the next day with one of the worst hangovers of his life and a memory of Louis and John grinding together on the dance floor. He checks his mobile on his bedside table and sees three missed calls from his mother and a text from Niall.

**Niall (04.45)**

_ great seeing u tonite mate! totally doin this again sometime! _

 

Harry smiles and types out a reply before dialling his mum’s number to distract himself from his thoughts of Louis and how he never once seemed to make the effort of coming up to say hi. He must have had seen him, had he not? Harry and his mum talk for hours. He tells her all about meeting Niall and how lovely his friends were at the club. He does not mention Louis, but his mother does and it hurts. A lot.

 “What did Louis do last night? Didn’t you invite him to come with you?” Harry feels tears stinging his eyes at just the mention of Louis. He does not have it in him to tell his mother the truth, how he and Louis barely have spoken for several weeks except for the occasional text.

 “I don’t know,” he says (truthfully) and brings his knees to his chest, resting his cheeks against them.

 “I think he and Niall would get along well, don’t you think?” Harry only hums in response. His mum is quiet for a while before she speaks up again, softly, motherly this time.

 “Harry, darling. What’s wrong my love?” And that is it, that is what sets Harry crying off. He starts hyperventilating, not even able to hear his mother on the other side. Hearing her baby cry so badly makes his mother’s tears to start falling as well.

 “Darling, honey, calm down please. Take deep breaths for me, alright? It’s okay baby, everything’s fine.” She keeps trying to sooth him, telling him to relax and to breathe.

 “I—” Harry sniffles. “I don’t think Louis is my friend anymore.” He tries to stop crying, he really does, but he cannot help himself. He knows he has been obsessing over the only friend he has gotten to know at university, that he is to blame that Louis has left him. He knows everything that has happened (or not happened) between them is his own fault.  _ Heknowsheknowsheknows _ .

 “Oh, sweetheart,” his mum says sadly. “Why would you say that?”

 “Because it’s true,” Harry sobs. “I’ve been too clingy. He doesn’t like me anymore. All he cares about is his  _ boyfriend _ .” He knows how he sounds, like a small, small child, but he couldn’t care less. All he cares about is how much he wants to be home with his mother, and eat her homemade food and play scrabble with her in front of the telly.

 “Mum?” he says, sounding so, so weak. “I want to come home.”

 

He arrives in Holmes Chapel the very next day. He spends the two-hour train ride with his earphones in his ears, listening to Fleetwood Mac’s  _ Rumours  _ on repeat until he sees his family’s navy blue car outside the station. He instantly felt at peace, like he always does when he comes home. He smiles when he sees his mother get out of the driver’s seat, smiles and does not care about the tears that springs to his eyes. He did not think there were enough tears left in his body to cry any more, but apparently that was not the case. When he is close enough for his mother to wrap her arms around him, he buries his face in her neck, just like he used to do when he was a child. He feels his mum press a kiss to the side of his face and pat him over his hair. They do not talk, not for the whole five minutes they are standing there in their embrace. As they drive through town, Harry stares out the window. He watches all the familiar places of his hometown pass by as they drive, but he is not really looking. His mind is totally blank. He feels so tired despite having slept for almost two days straight. He can feel his mother’s eyes on him every so often, but he does not have the energy to look back. Here he is, back to feeling really bad again. Just because Louis is ignoring him for a chance at romantic love.

 

When Harry first met Louis, it was not love at first sight. Harry does not even believe in love at first sight, not anymore, because if it existed, why was Louis with John instead of Harry? Harry knew he was infatuated with Louis right from the start, but he did not believe that it was love. He also did not want to scare Louis away, so he never said anything, never did anything about it. He thought that it was safer to keep having Louis around as a friend than to lose him because of a silly crush. He tells his mother all this over scrabble that night. His stepfather is away at a whiskey testing, so there is just the two of them at home. His mother had cooked him his favourite meal, Spaghetti Bolognese and they had even had dessert. The telly is on low volume in the background, fire crackling in the fireplace. They had not talked about Louis all day, not until fifteen minutes into their game, right after Harry had laid out  _ smitten  _ on the table.

 “So. What is this about not being friends with Louis anymore?” That was all his mother had said before he told her everything. About how Louis and him were really good friends and how he never told Louis about his true feelings and how Louis seems to have left him for his boyfriend.

 “They’re not even boyfriends,” Harry says quietly, watching the remaining tiles in front of him. “I’ve asked Louis about it a few times. He says they’re ‘only dating’.”

 “Honey,” his mother says seriously, even putting her glasses down on the coffee table. “I know Louis is your best friend, but—no let me finish please, Harry—but I think you should spend more time with Niall. It sounds like you had a fun time with him and his friends.” Harry knows she is right. He knows he should spend less time with Louis, someone so toxic to him that he makes him cry every night. But he cannot help himself. It is a toxic friendship and Harry is addicted. He is addicted like he has been addicted to all his friends, addicted to the point of sucking the friendship dry and making them leave him all alone. He sleeps next to his mother that night. Robin finds them in bed when he comes home just before midnight and goes to sleep in Harry’s old bed. He stays with his family for a whole week, slowly starting to feel somewhat human again.

 

Louis surprises him after a month or two, he does not really keep count (he does, it has been six weeks since they had a real conversation). Harry is lying in bed as usual, lazily watching some episodes of  _ Friends _ , his phone still in the pocket of his jacket next to the door. He hears a knock on the door, which is very unusual. It has not happened since before Louis met John, when he used to come over almost every night to watch a film and have a cuddle. Harry puts his hair up in a bun and runs his fingers under his eyes – a habit he has picked up since he started spending most of his time crying. He gets out of bed and goes to open the door.

 “I’ve found a great version of  _ The Danish Girl  _ online. Wanna watch it?” Harry cannot speak. He does not know what to say to Louis standing in front of him after weeks of hardly talking to each other. He hears his mother’s words in his head and he wants to say  _ no _ . He knows he should, but all of a sudden he hears himself saying:

 “Sure.” So they do. And it is a good film. It is just a shame that Louis misses it all because he is sitting with his mobile in his hands and stares at the small screen. Harry does not even have the energy to tell him off. Maybe his mother is right. Maybe it is time to end this friendship. He closes down the window and shuts the lid on his laptop when the end credits roll. He clears his throat, but does not say anything else, only sitting up properly and brushes some invisible lint off his trousers. He is staring straight ahead and it is weird, it is awkward and Harry has no idea how to deal with it. He has never been able to chit chat and it is weird sharing this awkward situation with  _ Louis  _ of all people. It never used to be awkward between them. Harry clears his throat again, louder this time. It seems to do the trick because he hears Louis locking the phone.

 “I’m thinking of surprising John with a trip back to Manchester next weekend, so it’s closer to home for Christmas.” This is so not what Harry wanted, let alone needed, to hear.

 “Oh,” Harry says, picking at his bed sheets. He does not even  _ care  _ about if Louis wants to take his stupid boyfriend to a stupid city where they have been again and again. Harry swallows.

 “We never got the chance to see Man United play last time we were there and I found cheap tickets to their next game. With great seats!”

 “That’s great Louis.” He knows he sounds upset. He never calls Louis by his full name when he talks to him, only when he wants to sound important or if Louis is annoying. It does not seem like Louis notices, however, as he keeps babbling on about John and what they have been doing together and what he has planned for the two of them to do in Manchester and does Harry think he can help Louis pick out a Christmas gift for John?

 “I don’t know anything about him.” Harry dares to look up to Louis and regrets it immediately. There is a frown on Louis’ pretty face and Harry wishes he never opened the door in the first place.

 “What’s with the attitude?”

 “I just don’t think I’ll be good at finding a Christmas gift to someone I’ve never met. Why would you ask me that? I don’t know him. Is he helping you pick out a gift for me? Will I even get a Christmas gift from you?” He cannot help himself, the lid is open and he cannot seem to screw it back on. “We haven’t talked for over two months, Louis, how can you just show up at my room and pretend nothing is wrong?” There are angry tears running down his cheeks, but he does not stop talking, surprising both himself and Louis. “Why would you just abandon me when you know I feel like shit?” He brings his hands up to his face to dry the stubborn tears off his face. He does not understand why Louis is there without an explanation, why would he even come over? Harry has finally started to get into a routine without him (albeit a bad routine, but a routine nonetheless) and Louis has the nerve to show up and act like nothing is out of the ordinary? Now, Harry barely ever gets angry, especially not with his friends because he has always been terrified of losing them. But now he is angry. He is furious with Louis for treating him like shit and expecting him to be there for him whenever  _ John  _ is unavailable. Harry hates John and he hates Louis and he hates this whole situation. He stands up violently, so violently his laptop would fall onto the floor had Louis not stopped it with a quick hand. Harry turns away from Louis, hands gripping his hair as he starts hyperventilating from crying so hard. He feels a hand on his lower back and he shies away from it immediately, like he has been burned.

 “Don’t touch me,” he hisses and pretends he cannot hear Louis’ defeated, almost annoyed, sigh of  _ Harry _ .

 “I want you to leave.” This time, he does not pretend he does not hear Louis’ voice.

 “Harry, what the hell is going on?” Harry takes a deep, shaky breath and shakes his head, dipping his fingers into the corners of his eyes and pleads  _ pleasestopcrying _ in his mind.

 “Please leave. I want you to leave, Louis.” And so Louis does. Not right away, of course not right away because Louis has always been stubborn and has always wanted everything to go his way. Such a selfish, toxic friend. But he leaves after ten more awkwardly minutes of Harry sobbing. And he cannot find it in himself to care, cannot find it in himself to feel anything as he sits down on the floor in a puddle of tears and sobs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they slowly come back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know nothing about relationships. harry is still depressed and suffers with anxiety, but he is working on it. 
> 
> hello. sorry for being way to late with this chapter. i've studied for exams, moved back home from england and been busy at work. this is unbeta-d as of now, but i wanted to get this up. when my beta has finished editing, i'll update this chapter with the edited version.
> 
> i decided to divide this chapter into two because it would be way too long otherwise. so enjoy having a fourth chapter to read soon!
> 
> as usual, a big thank you to everyone reading! i love you all. enjoy this chapter.
> 
> disclaimer: it may seem like harry has some kind of eating disorder, it's only briefly implied, but he isn't. depression and anxiety hits people differently, and harry just happens to lose his appetite when he's at his worse.

The New Year starts off just how Harry expected it to. He is back home in Holmes Chapel again, with his sister this time. They have a great time, looking through photo albums from when they were children and Harry even finds some home movies in the basement when he is looking for his grandmother’s Christmas recipe book. He loves being with his sister again. They tease each other and whine about whose turn it is to help set the table or empty the dishwasher. They even sleep in the same bed together on Christmas Eve, just like they used to do when they were younger. He has a great Christmas, hardly ever thinks about Louis and how Harry misses his birthday and how much he misses him. He sees pictures of him and John and their other friends when he scrolls through Instagram and Snapchat because apparently they are officially together now. Something about a surprise that came along with the birthday present John gave him. Harry tries not to use his phone that much when he is home, mostly because there is no need for it, the ones he talks to regularly are all in the house. Besides, Niall is in his parents’ house two blocks away and they have actually been speaking to each other a few times since coming home, even took the train up from London together. When Harry has felt like it, they have hung out, talking loads and playing video games even though Harry is really bad at them. They even hang out with Liam one night and it is one of the best nights Harry has had for a long time. They have all grown up now, maybe they can be friends again and Harry can try to ignore all his insecurities. It is the New Year soon, maybe this will once and for all be the year that makes his wishes come true.

 

Harry is Instagram stalking. He cannot help it, he’is too curious and he wants to know what Louis is up to. As he watches the photos of Louis’ selfies, of his younger siblings now that he is back home, of him and John together, of John sleeping in a hotel bed without a shirt on, Harry thinks  _ I don’t know him anymore _ . It has not even been that long since they spoke, let alone since their texting. But it is like Louis has become a whole different person and that is what hurts the most. It is not that he ignores Harry in favour of someone else, that he would rather spend time with other people than him. He gets it. If he could choose between whoever, he would not be wanting to spend time with himself either.

“What’s up baby bro?” Harry locks his phone as quick as possible, grunting as his sister sits so close she almost ends up in his lap.

“Nothing,” he mumbles and places the phone underneath his thigh.

“Harry,” she says. He hasn’t heard her this serious since he cried when he came out to his family. “I can see that things are bad again for you. We all can. I didn’t wanna say anything before because it was Christmas, but I’m really worried about you.” He turns his head to look at her, trying to smile, but it comes out like a grimace.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll tell mum.” It may sound like she is joking, but Harry knows her threat is anything but empty. He swallows thickly and tells her the same thing he told his mother over the phone.

“Louis and I aren’t friends anymore.”

His tone must say it all because she just squeezes him tightly, like she always does when he’s sad, and presses kisses to his hair as he hides his face in her neck. They sit there for a long time, so long that their mother finds them in the same embrace when she comes home from the shops half an hour later.

“When you’re finished with your little cuddle-fest, can you come into the kitchen and help me with the pudding for tonight?” She comes close and strokes a hand over Harry’s hair and he thrives in the attention from the two favourite women of his life.

 

After dinner and the delicious chocolate cake they had for dessert, the little family finds themselves in the living room yet again. They are all too sleepy from all the food to start a game of scrabble, so they sit and watch  _ Love, Actually  _ on the telly. It is Gemma who ends up bringing it up.

“I figure you don’t want to talk about it, but I am dying to know why you are going around saying that you and Louis aren’t friends anymore. Because that’s bullshit. You’re best friends. I’ve never seen friends like you two.” And at once, Harry is uncomfortable again. He had managed to forget about the situation as they had dinner, but now his mobile is burning inside the pocket of his jeans and he immediately sits up straighter.

“Because it’s true,” is all he says. After swatting away his sister’s poking finger, he sighs and significantly does not look at anyone, opting for staring at his hands in his lap.

“He started meeting this guy and now all he ever does is hanging out with him or texting him and he never wants to see me anymore, because he’s always busy with him or his course mates or he’s too tired and wants to be alone. We haven’t spoken in like two months.”

“At all?” It is his mother who is speaking now and he can hear the tears in her voice. She always was a weeper, much like himself and he suspects he definitely got it from her.

“No. Or, well. He came knocking on my door a few days before we went home and said he had found a good link to some film. And I was confused why he was there, but at the same time I was happy to see him, you know, so we watched it. Or, I watched it. He was sitting with his phone the entire time, like always. And then he started talking about things he and John were gonna do and asked me to come with him to find the ‘perfect Christmas present’ for him.” He swallows again, blinking a few times to get rid of the tears pooled in his eyes.

“Harry,” Gemma says carefully. “I’ll try to say this as kindly as I can, but I think you should rethink your friendship with him if he’s acting like this. I know it’s hard to hear, because he’s still your best friend, but he doesn’t deserve to have you as a friend if he treats you like this.” Harry doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods. He thinks she’s probably right, but it hurts to hear. He really,  _ really _ misses Louis.

 

Niall lasts three days after New Year’s Eve before he’s begging Harry to go back to London with him. Harry gives in two more days after that. London has never sounded more unattractive to Harry than it does right now. But, he puts on a smile because he’s with Niall and Niall blew off a girl to stay with Harry on New Year’s to watch the fireworks together. He also called Harry his best friend and Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. Niall is sleeping against Harry’s shoulder right now. He’s a mouth breather and a drooler, but Harry doesn’t really care. He tries to focus on his book, which is easy for the first one and a half hours, but he drifts off during the last hour and stares out of the window, thinking of Louis and wondering how he spent his Christmas break. He tries hard not to and even picks up his book a few times to try to read some again, but his brain doesn’t follow and he finds himself reading the same passage five times without knowing what he just read. He decides, right then and there on the train, that as soon as he comes back to London, he is going to stop obsessing over Louis. For good measure, he picks up his phone and turns off the notifications for him on both Instagram and Facebook. He’s not sure why he had them on in the first place, he’s almost certain Louis’ never bothered with it, but it feels final, somehow. They aren’t friends at all anymore; not in real life and certainly not online. As he locks his phone, he’s instantly reminded that he hasn’t changed his background from the photo he and Louis took together when they went sightseeing in London that one time. Going against the voice of reason in his head, he presses the home button to light the screen up. It was a cold day, he remembers, but the sun was out and even though their cheeks were blushed red, they were smiling toothily to the camera. Louis had forced Harry to take it, because of his longer arms and Louis’ fingers were cold as ice.

“Should’ve brought gloves,” Harry remembers saying, when Louis blew on his hands to try and warm them up before sticking them into his armpits.

“ _ Should’ve brought gloves _ ”, Louis had said in his best Harry-impression, which wasn’t very good, and he’d stuck out his tongue before walking ahead without seeing if Harry followed. Because Harry always followed. Harry sighs and leans against the window, even though it’s uncomfortable. He closes his eyes and tries to forget.

 

He hasn’t as much as managed to come in through the door before he gets a text from Niall, inviting him along to dinner. He considers telling him no, that he’d rather stay at home tonight, but he doesn’t feel like being alone tonight. He’s been surrounded by people for days now and that’s what he loves. So he puts his clothes away in his wardrobe and hops into the shower to wash off the sweat and disgusting train smell. He meets Niall downstairs and receives a hug so tight it’s like he just came back to war. He doesn’t mind, of course, always a sucker for hugs and cuddles.

“Where are we going?” Harry asks when he can finally breathe properly again.

“Dunno,” Niall says. “Loren said something about a new sushi place in Hackney.”

The restaurant is crowded when they walk through the door and Harry’s first reaction would normally be to run away and hide under the covers in his bed, but oddly, he doesn’t feel anxious tonight. He is here with his best friend and when they sit down and Loren hugs him, he knows he’s got other friends here tonight. He’s not alone anymore.

“Sammy’s brother and his boyfriend are joining us,” Loren says into his ear. “I think you’ll like them, they’re a lot of fun.” Harry smiles and nods, opening the menu in front of him.

 

The first person Harry sees when he comes back from the bathroom is Louis, sitting in between John and Ed with his head thrown back in laughter. His breath quickens and he feels faint when he walks the last steps to their table. Sliding into his chair next to Loren again, he feels Louis’ eyes on him, but he looks down.

“Oh Harry, look who came!” Sammy says and she smiles brightly where she leans on John’s shoulder. “This is my brother, John, and this is his boyfriend, Louis.” Now, Harry doesn’t know how much John knows about him, if Louis has told him anything at all. He gives John a small smile and reaches out to shake his hand.

“Harry”, he says shortly, glancing to the boy next to John. Louis is still watching him and it makes Harry uncomfortable, but at least he’s smiling. “Hi Louis,” he manages to say.

“Hey H. Alright?”  _ H _ . If that doesn’t break Harry’s heart then nothing will. He nods and grabs his drink from the table, just to have something else to focus on.

“Do you know each other?” Sammy asks and Harry kind of wishes she could stop being so obnoxious.

“Of course we do, Harry’s my best friend.” Harry was wrong.  _ That  _ was the thing to break his heart. He tries to smile again and actually manages a wider smile than before. If Louis’ going to act like nothing is wrong, then so will Harry.

 

Harry feels awkward and anxious for the rest of the night. He talks and laughs and smiles, but everything is forced. The blame is entirely on Louis, acting like their best friends again and telling stories about their antics and memories. Harry wants to scream at him to shut up, to stop acting like they’re still the best of friends. But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to spoil the evening. Harry is surprised when, in the end of the evening, Louis kisses John goodbye and walks with Harry home. It’s only the two of them and it’s weird because it hasn’t been like this since before Christmas and Harry had an anxiety attack in front of Louis.

“It’s bloody freezing,” Louis complains and rubs his hands together. He’s not wearing any gloves, of course. Harry puts his hands in his pockets. He’s not wearing any gloves either.

“Should’ve brought gloves,” he says, remembering that sunny, cold day a million years ago. With how Louis looks at him with that stupid knowing smile, proves he remembers it as well.

“That coat looks huge on you, have you lose weight?” Louis asks, worry clear in his tone. Harry knows his size has always worried Louis, that Louis has always thought he was too skinny. He lets out a cloud of breath and looks up at the sky, wishing he could see the stars.

“I don’t know,” he says. But he does. Since he and Louis stopped talking and he started feeling worse again, he’s lost enough weight to have to buy new jeans. He wants to eat is the thing, and he  _ does _ , he just doesn’t have an appetite anymore. Neither of them speaks again until they have come up to their floor and stands by their doors.

“I’ve missed you, H”, Louis says and Harry can’t read the mood of his smile, but he feels his eyes becoming wet, so he hurries to speak.

“Me too, Lou.” He turns around and pushes his door open, letting out a shuddering breath when he closes it behind him.

 

Something weird happens after that night. One weeks after the dinner (and a week before Harry’s 20 th birthday), Harry’s mobile lights up with a text and then another one less than a minute after. He’s just come back from a shower, hands rubbing the towel over his head and the phone vibrates yet again. Thinking it’s probably Gemma sending him photos of puppies she wants for her birthday, he sits down on his bed and unlocks his phone. Oddly enough, it’s not Gemma bugging him with pictures of sleeping Golden Retrievers or playing German Shepherds, but Louis asking (yelling rather, if the capital letters are anything to go by) if he’s caught up with some show Louis is watching. He hasn’t, but he can’t help but hesitate with his thumbs hovering over the screen. Texts from Louis is nothing new, he started texting Harry again quite frequently after the dinner, but Harry is always hesitant in his replies. He’s not sure if he’s ready to forgive Louis just yet, especially not since Louis doesn’t seem to remember how he has treated Harry. He texts his negative response and doesn’t expect a reply, but only some seconds after Harry presses send, Louis replies.

 

**Louis (12.05)**

_ fucking hell h, I’m coming to your room right now! _

 

That, however, is new. Whilst Harry and Louis have been texting rather frequently, they haven’t actually met up. Sure, they see each other in the corridor, they do live three doors from each other after all, but nothing more than that. That is also one of the reasons Harry has been hesitant with the messages. He hasn’t allowed himself to fully enjoy Louis’ presence in his life again because they haven’t had a proper conversation or hung out yet. He doesn’t like to think about it, but somehow he thinks of himself as Louis’ little secret from John. Not that John has any reason to hate or dislike Harry whatsoever, but then again, John and Harry has never met except for that one dinner and Harry doubts Louis even knew he was going to be there.

There’s a knock on the door ten minutes later and in normal Louis manner, he comes barging in.

“I can’t believe,” Louis exclaims and sits down on the bed, “that I have gone this far in life -- that  _ you  _ have gone this far in life, without ever seeing or hearing about  _ Sense8 _ !” When Harry doesn’t reply, too stunned to do so, Louis turns to him.

“Were you busy? We can hang out another day if you want.” Harry shakes his head.

“I wasn’t busy.”

“Well, do you wanna watch this show then? It’s really good, but I can’t explain what it’s about because it’s way too complicated.” Harry furrows his eyebrows and releases his bottom lip from his index finger and thumb.

“Haven’t you watched it already?” Louis reaches for Harry’s laptop and Harry hopes to God that he doesn’t have anything inappropriate or embarrassing on it for Louis to see.

“Haven’t finished it,” Louis says over the loud tapping of the keys. “I think you’ll like it.” When Harry doesn’t move from his spot on the floor, Louis speaks up again.

“Come on, sit down.” And Harry accepts the invitation, even though this is  _ his  _ room and  _ his  _ bed. He sits far away enough so they don’t touch and brings his knees up to rest his chin on them. Louis settles down beside him, lifting an arm to support a pillow behind his head. He’s wearing a t-shirt, but some of his armpit hair sticks out and weirdly enough, Harry has always been kind of attracted to body hair. This isn’t something he would say out loud, of course, because it’s weird, but he finds himself having to force his gaze away from Louis’ armpits and look at the screen. He can’t think of Louis like that anymore, he has a boyfriend. Besides, he wouldn’t be interested in Harry like that even if he hadn’t.

Harry and Louis hang out just the two of them a few more times. Apparently John has gotten himself a job, but Harry tries to forget that’s the reason Louis’ back in his life now. They don’t just sit in Harry’s room and watch TV series and films, but they walk around in the city, drink tea (or, in Louis’ case, coffee, because that’s something he likes now apparently) in hidden cafés in east London. It’s not often  _ only  _ the two of them, because like before, Louis is spending more time with his mobile than without it. And it irritates Harry, of course it does, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell Louis off. He can see how happy Louis is and if Louis is happy, then he should be happy for him. And he is. He just wishes Louis would be happy with  _ him _ .

 

Louis sends him a rather uncomfortable text one Thursday night.

 

**Louis (21.30)**

_ Wanna come to flat iron with me and john tomorrow? _

 

Harry has never been to Flat Iron, but he’s heard good things about it and if it were somebody else, or only him and Louis, he probably wouldn’t hesitate. But John is joining them and that sits ill in Harry’s stomach. Not that he dislikes John, he doesn’t even know the guy, not really, but it’s just that he can’t help but feel off about it. He feels weird going out with Louis and his boyfriend and he  _ hates  _ that he would be the third wheel. He’s been the third wheel too many times and he despises it. But he doesn’t want to lose Louis again, so he reluctantly texts him back.

 

**Harry (21.37)**

_ Sure, what time? _

 

Harry goes to bed on Friday night feeling a bit unsatisfied. They had dinner in Covent Garden, a lovely place really, and they had a good time. Louis was acting like his usual self, talking too much and tried his best to make everyone comfortable. Perhaps trying to make John the most comfortable, if all the kisses and touches were anything to go by. Harry had had a good time, but he felt like John hadn’t made any effort to get to know him. Harry hadn’t really either, but he’s shy and he had actually asked John some questions. John, however, had barely spoken to Harry at all, only asked a few questions back. He had mostly sat there, next to Louis, buried in his mobile. Harry wishes they could get along, that he could see just how amazing and lovely John was, just like Louis has told him. But he couldn’t. At one point during the dinner, Louis went up to go to the toilet and John and Harry hadn’t said a word to each other for the few minutes Louis was gone. Harry has never wanted to be one of those friends who dislikes every person his best friend dates, but he can’t help but dislike John just a little bit. Louis has talked about John to the skies, but Harry cannot see it. Perhaps you need to sleep with him to understand the hype. 

  
It’s not quite back to how it used to be, but Harry thinks they are getting there. Louis spends some time with him, but Harry wants more. He knows it’s selfish, but he wants Louis all to himself. Some days are better than others, but he often feels the anxiety eat him from the inside. He feels ugly and useless. No one actually needs him. Louis has his boyfriend and course mates and Niall has Loren, Ed, Sammy and a bunch of others because Niall is fun and popular. Harry is neither of those things. He’s not even anyone’s second choice, he’s more like their 8 th or sometimes even 10 th choice. It’s obvious with the way Louis texts him asking to hang out late at night when John has probably already told him he’ll be busy. It’s obvious when sometimes it takes hours for Niall to text back. Harry’s biggest wish in life is to be someone’s first choice. And he can’t wait for it to happen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring arrives and instead of enjoying the sun, Harry gets worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting in a month. I've been working almost everyday and the days I haven't worked, I haven't found any inspirations to write at all. But better late than never, right? 
> 
> I've changed the chapter count again because this works as a filler more than anything and I needed to break the chapter up yet again. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take as long, but I won't make any promises because then no one will be disappointed. 
> 
> (not beta'd because i'm too tired. Might come back and look it through when it's not bed time to correct my mistakes!)
> 
> Enjoy! .x

Some may think that when spring comes and the sun starts shining, that’s when it’s time for smiles and happiness. Instead, Harry starts crying himself to sleep again. He doesn’t know how it starts, but suddenly, he can’t get out of bed anymore. At first, he only leaves his room once to relieve his bladder, but other than that, he doesn’t even leave the bed. The window blinds are shut tight and leave the room in complete darkness. He’s just tired, is the thing. He sleeps the whole day through because when he’s awake, he cries. The vibration of his phone annoys him so much he shuts it off, even though he knows this will worry everyone. As much as it hurts, he can’t be bothered with anyone today.

 

He misses all of his lectures and seminars that week. It passes by without him really realising – he sleeps through it and doesn’t eat anything but some chocolate left in his room from the weekend. He talks a little to his mother when she rings him, faking a headache. He can tell she doesn’t quite believe him, but she doesn’t push him, only talks in her soothing voice and tells him stories about the cat. It makes him feel a teeny bit better, if he’s being honest.

 

Apparently Louis has decided that it’s mostly Harry’s job to keep in touch, because he hasn’t heard from his supposedly friend in a week. He hardly notices he hasn’t left his room during that same time until Niall comes banging on his door, yelling his name repeatedly until Harry drags himself out of bed and lets him in.  
 “Go shower, you’re coming with me.” Harry chooses to ignore him and crosses his arms insecurely over his chest.  
 “How did you come into the building?”  
 “The ladies in the reception loves me,” Niall answers with a confident smile and Harry wishes he had the same level of self-confidence as Niall. He probably never will, but a boy can wish. He doesn’t have it in him to argue, so he does what his friend tells him to and grabs his shower things.   
 “You can use my laptop if you want,” Harry offers quietly and waits for Niall to sit down on his bed before leaving the room. He stands still underneath the scorching water until his skin turns red and his fingers turn to prunes. He doesn’t want to go back to Niall, could see the look on his face before he left the room. He doesn’t want pity, doesn’t need it. He’s scared things will change between him and Niall now, now that Niall knows something is wrong with Harry. And he doesn’t want that – he wants his friend and he wants him to stay with him.

 

 “Harry, I think you should go talk to someone.” Harry tenses, but doesn’t look up from his sandwich. When Niall doesn’t say anything else, he takes another bite, hesitant this time.  
 “I’m serious,” Niall says and Harry doesn’t like the tone of his voice. He sounds too much like a parent and he tells him as much.  
 “That’s because I talked to your mum.” Harry looks at him properly and he doesn’t quite know what to say. There’s a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions going around in his head. He feels betrayed, angry, sad and relieved all at once. He opens his mouth to speak but a lump of tears blocks the way, so he clears his throat and tries again.  
 “You spoke with my mum?”  
 “Yes, I did,” Niall says and he’s abandoned his sandwich ages ago. “Because we’re both very worried about you. She called the other day because you hadn’t called her back for days.” When Harry stays quiet, Niall continues.   
 “Apparently there’s a good therapist in Marylebone somewhere. I’ll go with you, I promise.”  
 “No, that’s okay,” Harry says. “I can manage.” Niall looks surprised and a little relieved, but still a lot worried. Harry pretends he doesn’t see as he goes back to eating his sandwich. They sit in silence after that. Harry’s never been good at chitchatting, not even with his friends and Niall… Well, he looks like he has a million words to say, but for once, he keeps quiet. Harry feels somewhat grateful for that.

 

He actually manages to take his bike to the therapist Niall recommended. He emailed her, wouldn’t dare to call and be rejected or pitied, and surprisingly, she could manage to fit him in _Wednesday next week, if that’s alright?_ So there he was, outside this normal looking building. He stared at the door, not knowing what to do. There were some names next to it and besides them some buttons. None of them said the therapist name. The longer he stood and looked at the names, the more anxious he felt and he was just about to give up and cycle back home again when a woman came walking toward him on the other side of the door. She opened the door with a warm smile and spoke with a calm voice.

 “Hello. Are you Harry Styles?” He swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded and she held the door open for him.   
 “It’s the second door on your right,” she said and followed him up some stairs. He’s never liked that, walking in front of someone who clearly knows the way when he doesn’t. He figures it’s one of those tests they do to help them evaluate one easier.   
 “This one?” he asks quietly, even though her name is printed on the small sign by the door.  
 “Yes, that’s right. Please sit down in the chair to the right, Harry.”

 

It’s not that it didn’t feel good talking to his therapist. It’s just that it felt so good he’s terrified to go back there again. He feels guilty, talking about his feelings and about those who’ve hurt him behind their backs. The therapist had assured him time after time that it’s okay that he felt guilty, that it was normal for people suffering from anxiety, but that he should try and not feel guilty, because he hasn’t done anything wrong. He was just unlucky enough to feel too much all at once. (She didn’t _actually_ say that he was unlucky, but he knows that what she meant.) They decided on another appointment the following week and Harry wants so go, he does, because he wants to feel better. He wants to be able to go out and enjoy himself fully, be able to make new friends and have fun with them. He wants to meet someone who truly loves him for who he is, someone who isn’t afraid to hold his hand and who’ll _kiss_ him. He wishes for that so badly. He doesn’t want to live another year and feel the shame of never been kissed, of being a virgin. He puts the covers over his head and lets out a sob. It’s unnecessary to hide under the duvet, he knows that, but it’s a habit from back home when he had to stay quiet so to not worry his family. Why did he grow up to become such a failure?

 

The next week’s appointment passes by with Harry lying in his bed, staring at the wall. He hasn’t informed his therapist that he isn’t coming and the anxiety and guilt eats him up. But when he woke up that morning, he couldn’t even leave his bed. He is so tired and sad and pathetic. Instead of going to his appointment, he cries silent tears all day. They give him a headache and he feels exhausted, but at least he feels something. Niall texts him and asks about the session, but he doesn’t reply, so Niall calls him five times until he picks up.  
 “Did you go?”  
 “No.”  
 “I’m coming over.” He hangs up before Harry has the chance to answer.

 

The knock comes not long after and Harry forces himself out of bed to open for his friend. He has the duvet wrapped around his body, his greasy hair is up in a bun and his eyes are swollen and red from tears. But he doesn’t care. He knows Niall won’t judge.   
 “I’m coming with you next week,” Niall says and wraps his arms around Harry’s frame, squeezing him tightly. “It’s not up for discussion.” Harry nods into Niall’s neck and sniffles a few times, trying not to cry.  
 “I wish I could make you feel better, Harry,” he says and squeezes him even tighter. The love that radiates from Niall’s body in that very moment is what breaks Harry. He cries on Niall’s shoulder with sobs that wrack through his body. If Niall weren’t holding his entire weight, he would collapse on the floor. Through a haze, he can hear his friend trying to talk to him, to console him, but he can’t stop crying. He feels weak and pathetic for forcing Niall to deal with him when he’s like this, but he’s also so, so grateful that he is, that he’s here and he won’t leave. Niall manages to get them both to sit down on the bed and he doesn’t let go of Harry, not even when his sobs quiet down to sniffles.   
 “It’ll be alright, Harry. I’ll help you get through it.”

 

And he does. Niall is the one to email Harry’s therapist and schedule a new appointment, telling her that Niall is coming with this time.   
 “I don’t have to come in to the room with you, Harry, that’s completely your decision”, he says as he presses send. “But I’m going to come with you because that’s what you need.” _Sweet, wonderful Niall_ , Harry thinks. _How could I ever doubt you?_ He wants to express his thought out loud, he really does, but he doesn’t want to come off too strong and scare Niall away. So he says it with the extra-long hug he gives Niall when he leaves later that night.   
 “Are you sure you don’t want to come with? It’ll be great, H!” But Harry doesn’t feel like sit in a pub with music so loud you have to yell to be heard. He’d rather Niall stay with him all night to keep him company, but Niall had promised some friends to meet them in Hackney, so Harry closes the door behind his friend and locks it, leaning against it and takes a few deep breaths. He walks over to his bed and opens the lid of his laptop, tapping the Skype icon and drums his fingers impatiently next to the mouse pad as the logo jumps to life. He looks up to his corkboard and watches the pictures on it as he waits. There’s not many on it, one of his mum and sister and one of the whole family together. There’s also one of him, Niall and Liam from the Christmas hols and he looks kind of happy on all three of them. But the one he looks the happiest on is the one hanging closest to his bed. It’s a polaroid of him and Louis, from when they were fooling around with Harry’s camera one night when they should’ve been asleep, but they were laughing too much. Harry remembers Louis pulling a funny face, but Harry had laughed so hard Louis broke character and started laughing too, just as he pressed the button and the shutter went off. He’s been thinking of taking the photo down, but he looks so happy he can’t seem to do it. Perhaps he’s hoping for that happiness to come back to him, whether it be in the form of Louis or something else. But he keeps it there as a reminder that he can be truly happy, once he lets himself. So the photograph stays for now.

 

Niall sticks to his promise and comes with to Harry’s next appointment. His therapist looks happy to see him and tells him so. She doesn’t tell him why and Harry doesn’t ask, but it is a nice feeling. Niall doesn’t come in to the room with him, but knowing he’s right outside makes Harry feel relaxed and he has no problem talking or answering questions. Well, that’s until she brings up Louis.  
 “This best friend you talked about last time, that’s not Niall is it?” Harry sits quiet for a little while, not surprised really, but not exactly prepared either. He shifts in his seat once, twice, before he answers.  
 “No.” His voice comes out weak, so he clears his throat and tries again. “No, his name is Louis. But we’re not best friends anymore.”  
 “And why’s that?” Her voice is kind and curious, urging Harry on.  
 “He met someone and stopped talking to me.”  
 “I see,” the therapist says and writes something down in her notebook marked _Harry Styles_. “And how does that make you feel? Is that the reason your anxiety and depression became worse?” He nods and she writes some more things.  
 “You mentioned similar things happened when you still lived in Holmes Chapel. Did you do anything about it back then?”  
 “No,” he mumbles and feels his cheeks getting hot. She nods and puts the notebook aside, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.   
 “I need you to listen to me now, Harry,” she says and looks him straight into his eyes. “I if you work hard enough and do what we agree on in here, it will be easier to get better. I want you to starts putting yourself first. Start saying no to some things, especially if you feel like you don’t want to do something. This doesn’t mean that you should sit at home by yourself every night, because you also need to learn to look past your fears. I mean say no when they ask you for favours and the like. Practice by telling your friends you’ll think about it before saying yes immediately. Does that sound reasonable?” She leans back in her chair, but keeps her eye contact.

 “Yeah, that sounds reasonable,” Harry says. He glances at the clock on the wall and sees that his time is up and he moves to gather his things up.

 “I know it sounds terrifying, Harry, but you’ll feel better if you do something small every day.” She stands up and brushes off rubber remnants off of her jeans. “You’re doing great already, just by being here.” She gives him a warm smile and walks past him to hold the door open for him. “I’ll see you next week, Harry.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this is it. I'm so incredibly sorry for waiting more than six months to post this chapter, but it's been a difficult to write. I had an outline for it and I've been working on it on and off since the summer, but I had trouble finishing it. I've had the ending sentence forever, but it's been difficult getting there. But now, it's finally finished. I might do some additional work to this sometime, but I'm not making any promises because I'm superbusy with uni. Please let me know what you think and hope you enjoy it! .x

Harry is walking around town after one of his sessions when he spots a drop-in hair dresser. Now, he has never been one for drastic measures. He has _always_ spent hours, if not days, thinking and analysing before deciding. But as he reads the chalkboard sign, he decides to go in, not second-guessing himself one bit. There’s only one other customer in the shop, an old lady with rolls in her white hair. He sits down in the sofa and picks up one of the out-dated magazines. He’s just in the middle of reading a long interview with two siblings in love when someone stands in front of him.  
“Hiya love, can I help you?” And that’s how he ends up in front of a mirror, watching his hair falling to the floor. He never thought he would end up here, but as the woman behind him start shaving the sides of his head shorter, he can’t help but thinking of that quote he sees everywhere on the internet, “ _he liked her with long hair, so she cut it short_ ”. He has no idea who said it or where it comes from, but it seems fitting. Louis always complimented him on his hair, always the first one defending Harry when people asked or made fun of his hair. Perhaps he is finally letting go of Louis now.  
  
He catches sight of himself in the mirror when he comes home and cries himself to sleep.

 

*****

 

When Harry learns that Louis and John have broken up, he doesn’t really at first. It’s a couple of weeks after his hair cut and he’s still getting used to it, especially when he showers and his hair ends way before his shoulders. Officially, it’s convenient because he doesn’t have to buy as much shampoo and conditioner as before and it doesn’t get tangled. Unofficially, he misses it like crazy. Looking back, he should probably have suspected something fishy when his mobile keeps vibrating in his back pocket. He grabs his chai latte from the barista and does a little awkward dance to get his phone out. The barista looks at him funny when all he does is frowning down at the screen, holding up the queue.  
 “Hey, kid, you gonna answer that or not? Either way, get the hell out of the queue.” Harry’s head snaps up at the angry-looking man behind him and stutters out an apology, cheeks warm. As he walks out of the door, carefully so he doesn’t spill his drink, he slides his finger over the screen.  
 “Hello?”  
 “Hiya love! Alright?” Harry squeezes his eyes shut and swallows. This cannot be happening. Why is Louis calling him, now, after eons of silence? He should hang up, he really should. He should cut Louis out of his life, much like Louis has done to him. But his manners betray him.  
 “I’m alright. You?”  
 “Not great, to be honest. Wanna hang out?” Not really. What he wants is for Louis to leave him alone and stop playing with him. But of course, he doesn’t say that.  
 “Why?” That’s better than yes, at least. He hears Louis sigh and maybe he’s rolling his eyes as well, like he sometimes does when he thinks Harry is acting silly.  
 “S’been a while. Miss you.” Harry coughs once, twice, before (stupidly) agreeing.  
  
He is knocking on Louis’ door twenty minutes later. He opens it with a grin, that stupid Louis-grin that crinkles his eyes and makes Harry weak in the knees. It’s odd really, how someone who’s treated one so badly can still suck all the anxiety out of one’s pores. However, that feeling doesn’t last long, because the first thing Louis blurts out is  
 “What the fuck happened to your hair?” At once, Harry feels both hotter and colder. He can’t tell if he’s blushing or if he’s as white as a ghost, but he does feel like he’s about to faint. How could he be so stupid to think that he, for once, thought that being with Louis would make him feel good about himself? He self-consciously reaches up and touches what’s left of his hair.  
 “Well, I, uh,” he clears his throat, can’t look Louis in the eyes, feels like he’s being dragged backwards, far away from what he’s learnt in therapy. “I cut it.” He closes his eyes and wills the tears away.  
 “Why? I liked how it was before.” Louis leans against the door frame and crosses his arms.  
 “Are you gonna invite me in or what?” He can hear his voice breaking, but he can’t have this discussion. He might be as nervous around Louis as he’s always been, as insecure and _stupid_ , but he’s had enough. Louis turns around and walks in, not looking back to see if Harry follows. Swallowing, Harry steps in to the room and doesn’t sit down on Louis’ bed. He just stands there, in the middle of the room, with his hands behind his back. There’s a funny feeling in his stomach that he can’t pinpoint, but it’s there and it’s making him anxious.  
 “What’s up?” he says and there’s a lump in his throat that makes his words sound off, but he tries to smile.  
 “Not much, just wanted to see you.”  
 “Why?”  
 “I told you, I miss you and I wanted to see you.” He sounds impatient, and if Harry were looking at him, he would probably the annoyed little frown between Louis’ eyebrows.  
 “But _why_?” Harry’s getting impatient now, why today of all days? Why is Louis playing with his feelings like this? Why does he keep putting Harry down just to make him feel like the most special boy in the world?  
 “I realised something,” Louis said and it’s his turn to look away from Harry now. He stares down at his hands instead and it’s so unlike Louis to be nervous. He clears his throat and repeats himself. “I realised something.” Harry bites his lip and stare at him with wide eyes.  
 “You realised what?” It’s quiet for a while, uncomfortably so, and that’s yet something new to their relationship. Never before was a silence ever uncomfortable, nor common. Harry can’t help but think that maybe they aren’t made for each other, like he used to believe. Perhaps they’ve been through too much shit to ever be what they once were.  
 “Harry, are you listening?” Harry snaps his head up, finding Louis staring at him.  
 “Sorry?” Louis presses his lips together, like he does when he’s annoyed, and he doesn’t repeat himself.  
 “I promise I’ll listen now. What were you saying?” Harry asked, getting annoyed himself. He wants to move on, move forward, with or without Louis. But Louis doesn’t speak. In fact, he gets up from the bed and walks over to Harry, crowding in. He’s staring right into Harry’s eyes and only breaks the eye contact for a millisecond to flick his eyes down to his lips and back up again. Harry isn’t stupid. He knows what’s going to happen. But suddenly he can’t breathe and he startles backwards when Louis puts his hand on the side of his face and kisses him. It’s not at all what Harry expected his first kiss to be like, especially not his first kiss with Louis. He had expected this to be sweet and caring and maybe after a nice dinner. He had wanted them to go home together, hand in hand and for Louis to kiss him by the door, like in the movies. He wanted the flirtations, the butterflies, the fireworks. Instead, he stands dumbfounded with his hands remained at his sides. There are no fireworks, there is no spark, and even though Harry tries to be in the moment and just kiss Louis back, his mind is going a thousand miles an hour and he can’t stop thinking of how badly Louis’ treated him up until now. So when he feels Louis licking his lips in an attempt to gain access, he finds the strength in his arms to push Louis away from him.  
 “Stop,” he gasps and touches his lips with his fingers. “Please, stop.” He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand and breaks the silence that’s emerged. He wants to take a step back from Louis, wants to turn around and leave because he’s mortified. He wants to yell and scream and cry and maybe hit something, but instead he whimpers out:  
 “You- you can’t just go around kissing people like that!”  
 “But I-” Louis says and he takes a step forward, but doesn’t continue when Harry glares at him. “I though that’s what you wanted.”  
 “Who told you that?” Harry wonders accusingly and he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, digging his nails into the palms of his hands so deep his skin might break. Louis’ face softens from the shock and has the nerve to take another step forward. This time however, Harry finds his legs cooperating with his brain and he stumbles backwards and collides with the door, ignoring Louis’ outstretched hand.  
 “No one had to tell me, Harry,” he says with a sigh. “You’re not as subtle as you might think.” Harry feels his face going white, can actually feel the blood leaving his head.  
 “You knew how I felt about you?” he whispers. When Louis looks away and gives him a teeny tiny nod, he openly sobs. He brings a hand up to his mouth to muffle his sobbing, but soon after his legs give out and he slides down to the floor along the door and pulls at his hair with his free hand. He tries to stop the tears, but he’s full on crying in a matter of seconds. Never in his life has he felt so betrayed as he does now. Never has he been so mortified. Louis, his _best friend_ , has known about Harry’s feelings for him for God knows how long and insisted on playing with Harry’s heartstrings. He’s mortified and used and he’s blinded by the tears. His brain is screaming for him to breathe, the lack of oxygen is making him feel dizzy, but he can’t. Just like that, all the hard work he’s put into therapy and all the exercises they’ve worked on have flown out of his head. He can’t remember a single thing and now he’s sinking down the darkest hole of all. How could he be so stupid to think that he was subtle enough to trick Louis into thinking they were friends, that he was hiding all his feelings far beneath the surface. His scalp is stinging from all his tugging and his face is dry from the tears but he can’t feel it anymore. He’s numb to it all and for once he doesn’t care about anyone seeing him like this. He’s screaming out in pain and he wants his Mum or sister or even Niall, anyone except for Louis. He faintly registers Louis sitting down next to him, but it takes another twenty minutes for him to actually hear anything other than the voices in his head and his own crying. When he comes to, he’s aware of Louis’ hand going up and down his back and his other is prying Harry’s fingers away from his hair. Several hairs follow as Harry lets go, but his sobbing has diminished to hiccupping whimpers.  
 “There we go, darling,” he hears Louis whisper and he hates it. He doesn’t want Louis talking to him, least of all call him _darling_. He tries to speak, but all he can get out now are pathetic whimpers. Harry cries for five more minutes with the hairs on his arms raised in discomfort before he manages to get his mouth cooperating with his brain.  
 “Get off me,” he spits out. Instantly, Louis hands leave his body and he backs off with his hands raised in surrender. His palms face Harry as his eyes widens.  
 “Harry, I was just trying to help-”  
 “Help?” Harry bursts out. His eyes shots open as he gapes at Louis. “You’ve spent almost a _year_ pushing me away and ignoring me, _knowing_ that I was in love with you and you just threw everything into my face. If you knew how I felt, why did you lead me on and made me feel even more in love with you and then go fuck somebody else? Why would you play with me like some little toy and then throw me away as soon as someone more interesting came along?” He’s kind of screaming now, and crying again, stupid tears falling and making his face even saltier than before.  
 “Love, I don’t think-”  
 “Don’t call me that.” Harry reaches up to find the door handle and uses it to heave himself up to a standing position. “You have no right calling me that or any other name. In fact, you have no right talking to me at all.” He fixes his creased shirt and runs a hand through his hair. “You know what Louis?” Louis opens his mouth to answer, but Harry beats him to the bush. “If we don’t speak ever again, that’s fine with me.” Before he can second guess himself or ask for forgiveness, he opens the door and walks the short distance to his room, leaving Louis behind.

 

*****

 

It’s difficult living in the same building as one you’re trying to avoid. Harry spends most of his time outside classes in his room studying or talking to his family on the phone. Sometimes Niall asks him to come out, and he does most of the time. It’s easier to come home late at night and sneak into his room than meet Louis in broad daylight. It’s also easier due to the fact that Harry’s swamped with work before his BA paper is due. He’s stressed to the bone and this Louis-thing isn’t helping. Harry’s been without Louis for quite some time now, especially including the whole John-thing. But since he’s had his closure and he thought he would feel better and lighter, he’s only felt worse. Perhaps it would be better to have Louis in his life a few days a month than none at all. He tries to put those thoughts aside and focus on his studies, but it’s difficult. He tries talking to his sister about it, but she doesn’t understand and only says things like “forget about him, Harry”. As if he wasn’t trying. His therapist tells him he’s doing alright, considering.  
 “It’s good that you’re not letting yourself wallow, Harry,” she says. “Doing school work and going out with Niall sounds wonderful. It’s a process, Harry, remember that. You can’t be better with a snap of your fingers. You’re doing well.”  
  
Niall manages to drag him along to a karaoke bar one night after a big exam. It’s not Harry’s scene at all – he hates making a fool of himself. But Niall insists and Harry still has trouble saying no, so he puts on his nicest silk shirt he spent way too much money on, and finds himself swaying alongside Niall as Loren belts out _She Will Be Loved_ on stage.  
 “Niall,” he slurs. Perhaps he’s had too many beers. He tries to hide a hiccup behind his hand, but Niall laughs, so maybe he failed. “Niall,” he tries again. “You’re a good friend.” Niall laughs again, but it’s kind and he’s looking straight into Harry’s eyes.  
 “Thanks, Harry.” Harry frowns. It doesn’t seem like Niall believes him.  
 “No!” he says, rather forcefully and he spills beer on the table. “You are, you’re my best friend.” Niall doesn’t laugh anymore, but he keeps smiling as he squeezes Harry’s shoulder in a one-armed hug.  
 “You’re my best friend too, Harry.” He takes a swig of his drink and slams it down the table, making Harry jump. “What do you say? Should we go up there and show ‘em how it’s done?” His eyes are lit up in excitement. He kind of looks like a child, or maybe a puppy, Harry thinks. If this was a normal night, Harry would’ve said no. He probably should say no because he hasn’t been up from his seat in quite some time and he might be more than a little wobbly. But he takes the shot Loren brought when she’d finished singing and nods at Niall, grinning when he shoots up from his seat and heads for the stage. As they flick through the songs to find one to sing, he can hear Loren wolf-whistle from their table and he can feel his ears heat up. As the tones of the Beatles _I Wanna Hold Your Hand_ starts to play, Harry closes his eyes and lets himself get dragged into the song. This is not something he’d do every day, but he’s a new person now. He’s independent and confident and he’s had six shots of Tequila and perhaps one too many Palomas. He belts out the chorus along with Niall and swings from side to side in a drunken dance. He feels great, amazing even, and happier than he’s done for some time. At the end of the song, he bows deeply and his dimples are on full show as he grins out at their audience. There’s a boy in the back who claps longer than the others and when Harry catches his eye, he brings up his fingers to whistle. He’s quite cute, Harry thinks and he unbuttons another button on his shirt. The boy raises an approving eyebrow and smirks. Harry down the complimentary shot offered to the performers before making his way to the back.  
 “Hi,” he says as he sits down next to the boy. He’s quite pretty, Harry thinks, with his raven hair and hazel eyes. He leans forward a bit, because it’s loud and the boy smells delicious. “’M Harry.”  
 “Hi,” the boy grins back. “Are you having a good time, Harry?” Harry nods and scoots even closer with his chair.  
 “Yeah, did you hear me sing? Did you like it?” The boy laughs and takes a sip of his beer.  
 “I did, you were great.” Harry nods again and stares unabashedly on the boy’s face. Suddenly, he remembers something.  
 “Hey,” he drawls. Maybe he’s a bit more drunk than he thought. “You never told me your name. That’s not nice.”  
 “Hey, I’m very nice. My mum said so.” Harry snorts unattractively and covers his mouth with his hand, but the boy removes it and smiles.  
 “Isaac,” he says and nods to the dance floor, eyes on Harry’s. “Do you wanna dance, Harry?” And Harry must really be drunk because he accepts without hesitating.  
  
It’s crowded on the dance floor and they’re dancing so close every body part is touching. Isaac has a leg between Harry’s and he’s nosing at Harry’s neck and his breath tickles, but it’s a good tickling. Isaac is a little taller than him, so he has to bend to reach, and Harry tilts his head to the side because it’s a nice feeling. Better than nice even. It’s new, it’s exciting and Harry doesn’t think he can get enough of this feeling. The song morphs into another and then another and yet another and they keep dancing. Harry grabs the back of Isaac’s hair by the second song and kisses him. It’s sloppy and they’re both so drunk they’re mostly panting into each other’s mouths, but it’s hot and Harry feels something close to an electric shock surge through his body. He finds new courage and maybe it’s partly because of all the alcohol or maybe because Harry is more turned on than he’s been in ages, but he reaches up to whisper-shout in Isaac’s ear.  
 “Wanna come home to mine?”  
  
It’s dark when they come to Harry’s dorm, but they pay no attention to it. Isaac has his hand up Harry’s fully unbuttoned shirt, stroking his chest and nipples. Harry casts a glance toward Louis’ door, like always, but it’s closed and the lights are out. He focuses on Isaac again, letting out a moan as Isaac lips find his again. They barge though his own door and kick it shut as Isaac pushes Harry’s shirt off his shoulder and begin fumbling with his jeans.  
 “Just take me,” Harry manages to get out between whimpers and moans. “Fuck me, please.”  
  
The next morning, when Harry wakes up to the sun glaring straight at his face, he feels like absolute shit. Isaac left with a new contact in Harry’s phone and an ache to his lower side, but Isaac is not the reason Harry feels like this. Well, it is, but not _Isaac_ per say. It’s more Harry’s own fault. He never told Isaac he was a virgin last night, but he knew Isaac could tell because he was being both gentle and rough at the same time. No, Isaac isn’t the problem. It’s Harry himself and his goddamn feelings. This isn’t the way he wanted to lose his virginity. He wanted it to be with someone who knows him and cares about him. He wanted it to be after a date, a nice dinner or something like that. He feels disgusted with himself and pulls his hair in frustration. Why can’t he be happy with what he’s got? Why does he have to be a greedy mess who only takes without giving? Why can’t he just fall out of love with Louis once and for all?

 

*****

 

Isaac manages to convince Harry to go on a date with him. And a second one, and a third one, until Isaac one day introduces Harry as his boyfriend. Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself, but he finds himself smiling genuinely and can’t stop kissing Isaac all night. Later that night, when Harry is on all fours in Isaac’s bed, Isaac breathes out an “I love you” as he slumps over his back. He says nothing more than a good night before he falls asleep cuddled up to Harry, but Harry can’t fall asleep. He lies awake for hours looking at the wall with his mind racing. He should be over the moon, he knows that. A boy, in love with him! And Harry likes Isaac, he does. Isaac makes him laugh, he knows how to calm him down when Harry gets an anxiety attack, and he takes care of him. He’s just not sure he loves him yet. But then again, Harry has never known love like this.  
  
It’s a Thursday when he sees Louis properly again. They haven’t talked in months and it’s only two weeks until Harry has to submit his BA paper and he’s stressed to his very bones. Harry’s on his way to meet Isaac at Sanook Café when he bumps into Louis. At first glance, Louis looks tired and worn out, but Harry supposes it’s every student’s default face nowadays. They aren’t so close they need to say hello, Harry could pretend not to see Louis and go straight to Isaac, he’s late as he is. But this is Louis and before he can overthink his decision, Harry raises a hand and waves.  
 “Lou!” At the sound of his name, Louis looks up. Their eyes meet and Harry begins walking toward him. As he comes closer, he sees Louis smile and can’t help but to smile back.  
 “You alright Harry?” Louis asks when they’re close enough. Harry nods with a smile. Louis keeps smiling, but it doesn’t crinkle his eyes like it used to.  
 “You look it.” They fall silent. It’s an awkward silence and Harry feels uncomfortable. It was never awkward between them, not like this anyway. Not even when Louis was with John.  
 “How’s your masters going?” Harry says before the silence kills him. Louis reaches up to scratch the back of his neck.  
 “Good, yeah. Bit stressful, but it’s over soon.” Louis lets out a breath. “Thank God.” Harry smiles and nods.  
 “I’m actually on my way to Sanook Café,” he says, interrupting whatever Louis’ about to say. “Do you wanna come?”  
 “Just you and me?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you go out alone?” Harry chews on the inside of his cheek. He never thought he would see Louis again, let alone speak with him. How could he tell Louis about Isaac? Should he tell him? Are they even friends still?  
 “No”, he says in the end. “No, you, me and Isaac. My, um.” He hesitates and takes a breath before continuing. “My boyfriend.” He can’t meet Louis’ eyes when he says that, doesn’t meet them. He knows Louis is watching him because Louis’ always though eye contact to be important. He imagines Louis raising his eyebrows, but can’t tell for sure because the dried gum on the pavement in front of him is far too interesting. Harry counts seven of his breaths before Louis answers him.  
 “I shouldn’t. I’ve got a deadline soon. Next time, yeah? Harry finally looks up and instantly wishes he didn’t. Louis looked heartbroken, for lack of a better word. He’d never seen Louis’ eyes so dark blue before. He should let Louis leave and get on with his life, as much as he should get going to Sanook Café and Isaac. But he can’t go before he can make sure Louis is, at least a little bit, okay.  
 “You all right Lou?” he asks and he feels like he’s treading water. He’s not used to being the superior in his and Louis’ relationship. Louis is supposed to take of _him_ , not the other way around. Louis puts on a smile, a little too fake in Harry’s opinion, but he doesn’t question it.  
 “I’m all right, Curly. I promise. I’ll see you, okay? You always wanted to go to that Scandinavian café, didn’t you? Maybe we can go sometime?” His words leave Harry dazed and he suddenly realises how much he’s missed Louis. After all, they were the best of friends for a very long time.  
 “Yeah, all right. Sure! I’d love that.” Louis nods and puts his hands in his pockets before smiling.  
 “I’ll see you around, Curly,” he says. He walks past Harry and their arms graze from how close Louis is.  
 “See you around, Lou,” Harry mumbles when Louis is out of sight. He zips up his jacket to warm him against the wind and takes off to meet his boyfriend. He feels uneasy, but tries to shake the feeling off of him. Perhaps Louis and him are better off as friends after all.  
  
They do see each other after that. Slowly, tiptoeing around each other, as if anyone of them would break if the other chose the wrong word to say, if they moved a little too close. They don’t talk about anybody else other than themselves and Harry would never dream of bringing Isaac up in a conversation. They’re brittle, thin like ice and both are too scared of losing the other again. They’re not friends, no, not yet. But they’re trying, they’re getting there. And that’s what matters.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my baby. it’s my masterpiece and i am so proud of both it and myself for (almost) finishing and daring to put this out there for everyone to see, since it’s based on mostly myself and my experiences. please be nice about it, that’s all i’m asking.


End file.
